


Someone Like You

by tastewithouttalent



Series: When I've Got You [4]
Category: Durarara!!, Soul Eater
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Collars, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Massage, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-23 04:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9640277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "With Shizuo’s weight straddling his hips to pin him to the bed and Shizuo’s oil-slick hands working over the knots of tension that invariably lay themselves into his spine, Izaya thinks he’d do anything to linger as long as possible as they are." In order to get Izaya to relax, Shizuo has to take charge.





	

“Good,” Shizuo says, his voice humming low in the back of his throat as he weights his palms hard against the line of Izaya’s shoulderblades. “You’re doing great.”

“Like it’s particularly difficult,” Izaya says against the soft of the pillow against his face. He has his arms crossed underneath him to make a support for his head, but the words still come out muffled by the soft of the sheets. “All I have to do is lie still and relax.”

“And you’re _so_ good at relaxing,” Shizuo says. His hands are digging in along the line of the other’s spine; the force is enough that Izaya has to struggle to fill his lungs with a breath of air, but he doesn’t flinch away or tell Shizuo to stop. “If you were any more tense you wouldn’t be able to walk at all.”

“It’s not like it makes a difference anyway,” Izaya says just as Shizuo’s palm bears down against the bottom curve of his ribcage and forces all the air out of his lungs in a helpless groan at the pressure. “I only--only have to be able to transform to be useful.”

“Shut up,” Shizuo chides, punctuating with the force of his hand drawing down the small of Izaya’s back. “Don’t act like that’s the only thing I want you for.”

“You mean it’s not?” Izaya turns his head to cast his gaze back over his shoulder and through the dark of his lashes. “My god, Shizu-chan, why didn’t you say something before?”

“Quiet,” Shizuo says without looking up from the focus he’s giving to the dip of Izaya’s spine under him. “You twist your back when you do that.”

Izaya huffs a laugh. “As you command,” he drawls, and turns his head back to press his forehead to the angle of his arms underneath him.

He’s not really interested in complaining. There’s a comfort to having Shizuo’s hands on him at any time, regardless of the form he happens to be in; under the circumstances, with Shizuo’s weight straddling his hips to pin him to the bed and Shizuo’s oil-slick hands working over the knots of tension that invariably lay themselves into his spine, Izaya thinks he’d do anything to linger as long as possible as they are. The room is warm, the air comfortable even with nothing to cover Izaya’s skin but the thin layer of his briefs pinned to his skin by Shizuo’s boxer-clad weight atop him; and there’s a pleasure to the fit of Shizuo’s legs against him, a lingering warmth in the way the other’s bare calves press close against the line of Izaya’s thighs like another unthinking means for the other to hold him still. Izaya shuts his eyes to the close-up texture of the blanket under him, and lets his shoulders ease against the support of the mattress, and he lets Shizuo’s hands sweep out steady pressure over the tension that strains itself to aching against his shoulders and at the curve of his spine.

Shizuo is surprisingly good at this. Izaya would have thought his meister would lack the patience for this kind of extended, repetitive work; but Shizuo goes quiet in moments like this, stills and calms until he falls into complete, focused silence without Izaya’s constant efforts to pull them into some kind of conversation. It’s like his whole attention is pinned to the slide of his hands over Izaya’s skin, like every knot of tension against some aching muscle is worthy of his full focus as he eases it free from Izaya’s body. The attention is lulling, is soothing on a deep level that surpasses and extends beyond the simple reassurance of physical contact, until Izaya loses track of time under the weight of Shizuo’s hands, until his whole body feels like it’s melting over the sheets under him as Shizuo works down his spine. Shizuo doesn’t say anything to break the soft sound of his hands sliding over Izaya’s skin, and with Izaya’s eyes shut and his thoughts drifting he doesn’t have anything to offer either; it’s enough to let Shizuo’s touch steer the relaxation of his body, to let himself capitulate to the commands of the other’s fingertips at his back the same way he surrenders to the clarity of Shizuo’s voice at his lips.

Izaya doesn’t move away when Shizuo rocks back to slide down his legs so he’s kneeling against the soft of the sheets instead of sitting on top of Izaya under him. The ache in his back has eased, has given way to a languid relaxation that Izaya can feel suffusing his thoughts to hazy calm; he’s thinking about feigning sleep, just to see if he can get Shizuo to curl in around him and submit to the laziness of a midafternoon nap. He doesn’t know if his attempt is successful or not, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference; Shizuo’s attention is still holding to his body, even if he’s apparently concluded his work on the strain of Izaya’s shoulders and the sweep of his spine. He settles in at the other’s feet, instead, urging Izaya’s leg to bend at the knee so he can brace the other’s foot in midair against the pressure of his thumbs, and Izaya turns his head against the pillow of his arms so he can breathe more easily while Shizuo’s hands work into the arch of his foot and down over the joint of his ankle and the curve of his calf. It feels good, to have strong hands offering soothing pressure to areas of his body he’s not used to paying any more attention than a quick drag of soap in the shower; it’s ironic, Izaya thinks hazily as Shizuo eases his leg back down to the bed and starts to work up against the back of his thigh, that the same hands that can all but tear apart an enemy with the strength of their Soul Force can be turned to such effective use in easing away tension rather than giving it. His attention is drifting, his thoughts more trailing the press of Shizuo’s fingers working over his second leg than holding to any of their usual sharp-edged focus, when Shizuo’s hands lift away from his thigh, and land at his hips instead to catch just at the elastic of Izaya’s waistband.

Izaya doesn’t offer any resistance. In actual fact he capitulates as fast as Shizuo’s fingers dip down against his skin, pressing his arms closer against the bed and arching his back to bring his hips just up off the sheets to give Shizuo better access to strip him down to bare skin. He’s warm all through his body, he realizes; the loss of this last piece of clothing doesn’t bring any kind of chill with it, barely even registers in the back of his head with a measure of self-consciousness. He’s just left sprawling across the bed as Shizuo rocks back to draw the clothing free of his ankles, his whole body warm and languid and prickling with anticipation for where Shizuo’s touch will wander next.

Shizuo doesn’t say anything at first. He shifts at the end of the bed to toss Izaya’s clothing aside and out of the way; and then he comes back in, catching his knees against the outside of Izaya’s to pin the other in place as he reaches for the bottle of oil to slick his hands with the liquid again. When his palms settle against the top of Izaya’s thighs his skin is slippery, the oil warmed by the heat of his own body to glide smoothly up and over the curve of the other’s ass, and underneath him Izaya shudders an exhale and shuts his eyes again to give himself over to the drag of Shizuo’s hands against him.

It starts out as a continuation of the massage. Shizuo’s pressing down hard with his palms, leaning in to bring the full force of his weight to bear against his touch; the dull ache of it presses against Izaya’s chest, spills his breathing from him in a groan faint but clear against the quiet of the room. Shizuo’s hands slide up, sweep back down, work over the tension of Izaya’s body; and against the sheets, pinned down by the force of Shizuo’s movements, Izaya can feel his cock starting to stir to heat, can feel his breathing coming faster as Shizuo’s fingers spread out to bear down against him. His skin is going hotter, he can feel himself flushing under Shizuo’s touch, and with each pass of the other’s movement Shizuo’s fingertips draw closer to his entrance, the slick slip of the other’s touch drawing Izaya’s imagination down towards murmurs of shadowy heat, of pressure and friction pressing over him, pressing inside him, stretching him wide for the solid force of Shizuo’s cock. He’s starting to tremble against the bed, he can feel his shoulders tensing as he tries to restrain the urge to buck himself up, to curve himself into an offering for Shizuo’s touch, for Shizuo’s use; and then Shizuo’s movement stills, the slick slide of his hands falling to weight back against the top curve of Izaya’s thighs instead.

“Izaya.” Shizuo’s voice sounds strange, a little lower and a little rougher than it usually does; when his hand lifts from Izaya’s leg it’s only to reach out and ghost against the line of the other’s spine instead. Izaya can feel the prickle of awareness of the touch as Shizuo’s fingers skim across his back to climb between his shoulderblades and up to the top of his spine, where the bone is pressed close against the skin. Izaya’s shoulders tense, his whole body goes taut in expectation of the question Shizuo is about to ask, the way Shizuo always asks.

“Do you want me to take it off?” Shizuo’s fingertips skim the curve of dark leather around Izaya’s throat, weight against the buckle warmed skin-hot from where it sits against the back of Izaya’s neck throughout the whole of the day. Izaya can feel the pressure of the collar with greater force now than he usually notices it, like Shizuo’s question has brought the leather suddenly forward in his attention to feel the weight of the loop clinging flush to the thud of his pulse speeding in his throat. It’s a burden, a promise, an agreement he carries with him as close as the switchblade form that hums through his veins, and Izaya’s answering the way he always does, shaking his head roughly against the sheets under him while he takes a breath that he can feel pulling rough over the weight around his neck.

“No,” he says, his voice strained to unusual heights to match the tension weighting down against his chest. “I want to keep it on.”

Shizuo breathes out, the exhale audible even over Izaya’s racing heartbeat. “Okay,” he says, and his hand slides sideways, his fingers shifting to curl in to match the curve of the collar instead of pressing the threat of removal against the buckle. Izaya takes a breath, feels the relief of it shuddering in his chest, and over him Shizuo’s touch is sliding against the line of the leather against his skin, tracing the fit like he’s memorizing the shape of the collar all over again with his fingertips.

“It looks good,” he says, as his palm slides in against the side of Izaya’s neck, as the weight of his palm fits flush over the rhythm of the other’s pulse. “I like the way you look in it.” Shizuo’s knee slides up alongside Izaya’s hip, the other’s weight rocks forward as he braces himself; when his touch slides up from Izaya’s thigh his aim is unhesitating, his fingers drawing straight over oil-slick skin to find the taut heat of Izaya’s entrance. Izaya’s breath rushes out of him at once, his whole body trembling to slack surrender under Shizuo’s body, and Shizuo presses a fingertip against him, rubbing oil in against the sensitive skin with a careful attention that steals Izaya’s breath more thoroughly than the proprietary weight of Shizuo’s palm against the side of his neck.

“Relax for me,” Shizuo says, his voice calm, soothing, like he’s reminding Izaya of some obvious fact. His thumb slides in over the back of the other’s neck, pressing gentle friction against the skin, and Izaya can feel his whole body ease with the weight, like it’s obeying Shizuo’s touch more immediately than his own intention. Shizuo’s fingers against him draw up, slide down in a smooth drag across oil-slick skin; and then he’s pressing in all at once, his finger slipping past the tension of Izaya’s entrance with an ease granted by the slippery glide of the oil coating both their skin. Izaya exhales hard, his body flexing around the friction of Shizuo’s touch inside him as his hands clutch at the sheets under him, as his shoulders hunch under Shizuo’s hold; but over him Shizuo is humming, is all but purring appreciation as his touch delves deeper inside Izaya’s body.

“You feel so good,” he says, drawing his finger back slow, like he’s savouring the sensation of Izaya’s body flexing hard against his touch. “I love feeling you like this.” His finger presses deeper, spreading Izaya farther open as he sinks in past the second knuckle; Izaya can feel the friction of it urge up his spine, can feel the heat of Shizuo’s touch climbing far beyond the actual depth of the other pressing into him. “I can feel how much you like it.”

“Fuck,” Izaya says, turning his head down against the press of his arms so he can hide the flush across his cheeks. “Shut up.”

“No,” Shizuo says, and he’s leaning in closer, his hand against Izaya’s collar is tightening like a reminder of his dominance, like he’s gesturing to the proof of Izaya’s offered surrender. “Let me see your face, Izaya.” His finger inside Izaya draws back, sliding half-out of the other before he takes another slow stroke in; Izaya can feel his cock swelling harder against his hips, can feel the head of it catching against the sheets under him as it stirs towards fullness. “I want to watch you.”

Izaya almost doesn’t obey. He could refuse, he knows; even with Shizuo’s touch working him open and Shizuo’s hand pressing against the collar that stands as proof of his obedience, he could shake his head, could tell Shizuo to unfasten the buckle, could free himself at any time from his voluntary surrender. They wouldn’t even have to stop what they’re doing, probably would barely pause in the process Shizuo’s already begun; but Shizuo would take the collar off, and Izaya can feel his whole body tense in rejection of that idea before it’s even formed. The loss of that pressure would strip him truly naked, would leave him far more exposed than even the heat of his expression is likely to; and so he takes a breath, and clenches his fingers at the sheets, and turns his head to the side again so Shizuo can see the color across his face.

“Good,” Shizuo says, immediately, praise coming with affectionate speed to his lips, and Izaya’s whole body goes warm with a response too immediate for him to restrain even knowing Shizuo can certainly feel it against the slow strokes he’s taking with his finger. “You’re so beautiful, Izaya, I love looking at you.” He lifts his hand from the other’s neck, drawing his touch up to gently brush Izaya’s hair back from his face, and Izaya can feel his cheeks burning to scarlet and can feel his breathing catching in his chest and he can’t do anything but lie still and let Shizuo’s touch bare his features for the glow of the light overhead.

“There,” Shizuo breathes, sounding warm and reverent, and Izaya hisses an inhale as the other’s fingers skim over the heat all across his face and panting damp at his lips. “You always get so flushed when I’m inside you, it’s incredible.”

“God,” Izaya groans, not sure if he’s protesting or pleased. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” Shizuo asks, his fingertips trailing along Izaya’s cheek to skim against the other’s lips. “It’s true.” He shifts his knee at Izaya’s hip, steadies his balance where he’s leaning over the other; when he moves again his thrusts have a purpose, a focus behind them that tingles electric anticipation up the whole of Izaya’s spine. “It’s easier to tell when you like what I’m doing this way.” His touch slides deep into Izaya’s body, his fingertip dragging pressure against the fluttering tension inside the other, and Izaya can feel the friction thrum low in his stomach, like a tuning fork hitting a note trying to resonate within his veins. His eyes open involuntarily, his lips part on a gasp, and over him Shizuo hums, a sound low and heavy with promise.

“Right there,” he says, almost to himself, and on his next thrust Izaya’s eyes go wide, his head tips back with the gasp Shizuo’s touch pulls out of him. His cock twitches against his stomach, jerking in reflexive response to the flare of heat that comes with Shizuo’s movement, and Shizuo hums again while Izaya’s ears are still ringing with the all-in distraction of that surging sensation.

“I’m going to give you another finger,” he says, a statement and not a request, and he’s drawing his hand back out of Izaya entirely, leaving the other trembling against the sheets as Shizuo braces a hand in front of his face and leans sideways to reach for the bottle set next to the bed. Izaya’s whole body is tingling with the loss of friction inside him, he can feel the emptiness like an ache forming to a knot low in his stomach as he waits for Shizuo to rock back over his knees and pour slick liquid over his fingers. There’s a drip that spills against his skin, a splash of cold against the inside of Izaya’s thigh that makes him flinch, and Shizuo murmurs “Sorry” with absentminded care as he clicks the lid of the bottle shut again and drops it to the soft of the blankets alongside them. One hand presses against the middle of Izaya’s back, drawing down against the dip of his spine to settle and weight just at the top of his hips to brace him steady; and then the touch is back against Izaya’s entrance, wetter and cooler with the additional lubrication, and Izaya is gasping a breath while his body flexes hard against the desire that ripples through him in a wave.

“Here we go,” Shizuo says, and then he’s pushing, and his fingers are pressing slick heat up into the resistance of Izaya’s body. Izaya’s chest tenses on the friction, his breath spills out of him in a whimper, and behind him Shizuo is humming again, that low note of satisfaction rumbling far in the back of his throat.

“Good,” he says, as he draws his fingers back to stroke through another forward motion and urge the pressure a little deeper. “You’re doing so well, Izaya.” Another stroke, another inch of depth. “You’re so good at letting me in, you relax so fast for me.” Izaya chokes on his breathing, his face flushing with a burn he can feel radiant against the air of the room, but Shizuo’s still talking, still purring over that praise that colors Izaya’s cheeks and flushes hard in his cock in equal measure. “I love having my fingers inside you, I love how quick you can take me, it’s like you’re ready for me all the time.” He’s turning his hand as he strokes, twisting his touch inside Izaya’s body to work in deeper, and Izaya is struggling to breathe, he can feel the pressure of Shizuo’s fingers stretching him open as if the other is pressing into the very core of his being, as if the whole of his self is being laid bare by the pant of his breathing and the shudder of his body against the other’s touch.

“Izaya,” Shizuo says, his voice turning the other’s name over into something almost a prayer, appreciation turned ecstatic in his throat. “God, you feel so _good_.” Izaya’s body tenses involuntarily, reflexive movement clenching hard around Shizuo’s fingers, and over him Shizuo groans, his hand at Izaya’s spine pressing down harder for a moment of involuntary response of his own.

“Like that,” he says, and he’s drawing his touch back for another stroke, he’s moving faster to work Izaya open around his touch, and Izaya can’t find air for his lungs for how hot his blood is going with the drag of Shizuo’s fingers. “I can feel you around my fingers, _fuck_ , you feel so good just like this.” He’s finding a rhythm, his fingers are shifting apart to angle wider inside Izaya’s body, and Izaya is shuddering helplessly with the heat of it, his legs trembling against the bed under him as his cock digs in against the soft of his stomach.

“I love having you like this,” Shizuo says, and Izaya whimpers some half-formed plea against what he knows is coming, against the affectionate appreciation he isn’t sure he can stand; but Shizuo’s collar is still around his neck, and his head is still turned up to the clear illumination over him, and Shizuo is still stretching him open while he offers honesty Izaya can’t turn aside from. “I can feel how much you want this, I can feel how hard you are from the way you clench around me.” Izaya’s face burns, his body tightens, and Shizuo makes a low, wanting noise in the back of his throat. “You look so good, Izaya, you’re so flushed and you’re breathing so hard and I want you so bad, I want to hear that sound you always make when my cock slides into you, I want to watch you coming under me, Izaya, you’re so _beautiful_ when you come.” Izaya flinches, feels his neck tense with the desire to duck away and press his face against the protective shadow of his arms, where Shizuo can’t see him and can’t see the heat spilling from his lips with every breath; but Shizuo’s collar is still pressing against his skin like a handhold, as steady and unflinching as the weight at Izaya’s hips, and he can’t, he can’t turn away and he can’t hide and all he can do is tremble under Shizuo’s gaze, laid bare by the other’s attention and so achingly hard with it he can hardly think straight.

“Are you ready?” Shizuo asks over him, his voice purring far in the back of his throat as his fingers dip and drag against the inside of Izaya’s body. “Izaya, tell me.”

It takes Izaya two tries to speak. The first time the answer he wants to give is lost to the part of his lips, it drags against the back of his throat and dies to a whimper before he can give it shape; he has to try again before he can manage coherency, and even then it comes out raw and trembling on the too-much heat radiant across his whole body.

“ _Please_ ,” he gasps.

Shizuo sighs, a long breath of relief gusting from his chest. “Okay,” he says, and his fingers are sliding back, his touch drawing free to leave Izaya bereft once more. Izaya knows it’ll only be a moment, knows Shizuo must be as desperate as he is; it still feels like an eternity while Shizuo pushes his boxers off his hips and struggles to kick his feet free of the fabric. Izaya’s fingers tense on the sheets under him, dragging against the soft while self-consciousness peaks and rushes to heat through every corner of his body; and then Shizuo is leaning in over him again, reaching out to brace a hand in front of Izaya’s face, and Izaya takes a sharp, startled inhale of anticipation as Shizuo’s knees fit to press and brace against the inside of his own spread-open ones.

“God,” Shizuo says, “okay” and he’s shifting, rocking his weight forward over the bed as he aligns himself over Izaya lying flat underneath him. His wrist bumps Izaya’s ass, his knee slides against the inside of the other’s thigh; and then his cock presses to Izaya’s entrance, the head of it swollen to flushed hardness, and Izaya gasps a sudden, reflexive inhale. Shizuo’s hand closes at his hip, Shizuo’s fingers press against his skin; and Shizuo’s hips rock forward, and Shizuo’s cock slides past Izaya’s rim and into the grip of his body, and Izaya makes a sharp, shattered noise, like a whimper and a moan and a wordless plea all tangled into a single note in his throat. Shizuo groans over him, satisfaction audible on his tongue, but Izaya doesn’t even feel the burn of embarrassment; he’s too focused on Shizuo moving into him, his attention too much on the fit of Shizuo’s cock inside his body to spare any at all for self-consciousness. Shizuo presses deeper, the slick length of him dragging firework friction all up Izaya’s spine as he goes; and then he pauses, and gasps a breath, and draws back to take another slow thrust forward. He goes deeper this time by a span of inches, fitting farther into the shape of Izaya under him, and when he pulls back for a third thrust Izaya can feel himself giving way even before Shizuo pushes forward, can feel the full heat of Shizuo’s length sliding forward to sheathe itself inside his body. Shizuo groans as he comes forward, his fingers tightening on Izaya’s hip as he sinks into the other, and Izaya shudders as Shizuo’s hips press flush to his, his body tremoring through a sustained wave of tension he can’t resist any more than he can resist clenching hard against the pressure holding him open around Shizuo within him.

Shizuo keeps them like that for a long moment, his body braced over Izaya and breathing hard enough that Izaya can hear each individual gasp of air in the other’s throat. Then he lets his hold at Izaya’s hip go, settles his hand at the sheets under them instead, and Izaya gasps for a lungful of air as Shizuo leans in over him to press his chest close against Izaya’s spine. His body is warm against the other’s, the weight and presence of him pinning Izaya to stillness beneath him; and then he rocks his hips back, and takes a slow thrust forward, and Izaya groans, the air in his chest leaving his lungs in time with Shizuo’s movement into him.

“Oh god,” Shizuo gasps over him, his lips almost skimming Izaya’s hair. “You’re so beautiful” and Izaya can’t protest, can’t find voice for anything, because Shizuo is moving into him, is finding a rhythm to the slow rocking motion of his hips and Izaya is shaking with it, is gasping and trembling and clutching at the sheets that do nothing at all to hold him steady against the dizzying rush of sensation running through him. He keeps tensing helplessly, his body bearing down against the pressure of Shizuo inside him, and Shizuo is panting against his hair, moving faster like his actions are being spurred on by Izaya’s response. The head of Shizuo’s cock is pressing far inside him, urging jolting heat into Izaya’s veins with every stroke the other takes; and then Shizuo stops, his movement stalling, and Izaya gasps a breath as much surprise as protest.

“What--” he says, and he’s looking up to actually meet the force of Shizuo’s gaze, trying to figure out what caused the sudden cessation of movement. “Shizu-chan, why--”

“Here,” Shizuo says, and he’s shifting without pulling away from his press against Izaya’s body. He leans heavy against Izaya for a moment, the other taking most of his weight for a heartbeat, and then he’s sliding his knee up and away from its solid press at the inside of Izaya’s. For a moment Izaya is confused, lost even as to a guess at what Shizuo is attempting; and then Shizuo’s foot catches at his ankle, and pushes to urge his leg in closer, and he understands at once.

“ _Oh_ ” and he’s moving, sliding his leg across the sheets to shift his position while Shizuo presses his knee to the outside of Izaya’s instead, leaving their legs interlaced for a moment before he tips to the side to free the second. Izaya’s quicker this time, better able to anticipate what Shizuo wants of him; and then Shizuo’s knees are bracing against Izaya’s to bracket the other in place, and Shizuo is shifting in to rock closer against his hips, and Izaya can feel the pull of the extra friction of this new position drag all the way up his spine in one long shudder.

“Yeah,” Shizuo says, the sound a purr of approval more than anything else, and when he draws back Izaya can feel the whole long drag of the other inside him, can feel the pressure made tighter by the close-pressed angle of his legs. He gasps at the pull, his body tensing reflexively at the movement; and then Shizuo thrusts back into him, his cock sliding slick to press against the tight angle of Izaya’s body under his, and Izaya’s back arches at once, his whole body thrumming tight at the surge of heat that rushes through him. His mouth is open, his chest is spasming, his whole body is made into a single note of response, and inside him Shizuo’s cock is pressing hard against him, deeper than Izaya’s felt him before, the heavy heat of him bearing down against Izaya’s prostate with inexorable force.

“You like that,” Shizuo says rather than asks, and he moves again, rocking through another long pull of motion that Izaya can feel spike up the whole length of his spine like it’s trying to unravel him from himself. “Oh my god, Izaya, you’re _so_ tight like this” as his thrusts start to shape a rhythm, as Izaya feels himself starting to tremble in helpless response. “This feels better for you, doesn’t it?” Shizuo’s mouth is pressing to Izaya’s hair, his lips are dragging nearly atop the other’s skin, and Izaya can’t answer him, can’t do anything but shudder through each full-body tremor that runs through him with every driving motion of Shizuo’s hips. Shizuo huffs against his hair, something low and hot enough to be a groan, and at Izaya’s side fingers touch skin, Shizuo’s touch fits against his waist to trace down over the tremor at his stomach. Izaya’s gasping for air, all his skin is hot with sensation, he can feel the effort of Shizuo’s movement running through the other’s body against him with every long thrust he takes; and at his hips, over his navel, Shizuo’s hand is slipping towards the full heat of his cock.

“Izaya,” Shizuo breathes, and his fingers close against Izaya’s length, and Izaya’s whole body flexes, his back arching to press futile effort against Shizuo holding him down. His breath is straining in his throat, the curve of Shizuo’s collar is clinging tight to flushed skin; and around him Shizuo’s fingers are stroking, and inside him Shizuo’s cock is moving, and he’s hiccuping over his inhales and clenching hard around Shizuo and he feels like his whole existence is drawing to a single point, like all the tension he has left to him is lacing through his body like unavoidable electricity. His thoughts are spinning, his vision is hazing; and then Shizuo says “Fuck,” in a startled, breathless range. “You’re going to come” and Izaya does, just like that, as if Shizuo’s words were a command for the straining effort in his body to give way to pleasure. His vision flares to white, his awareness disintegrates; for a moment there’s just the rush of heat through him, around him, in him, his whole sense of the world given over to the desperate, gasping relief rushing over him in a wave. At his hips his cock is pulsing wet over Shizuo’s hold, against his hair Shizuo is groaning in helpless surrender to his own orgasm, inside him there’s a last pull of friction before Shizuo’s cock spills hot into him; but Izaya isn’t thinking about any of that, isn’t even thinking about Shizuo’s attention to the slack heat that has overcome his expression. There’s just the sensation, friction so strong it leaves his body spasming through each shudder of relief, and the heat, and the weight of Shizuo against him to hold him steady.

It takes a long time for the aftershocks to fade. Izaya is still trembling with them when he comes back into some semblance of awareness, at least enough to be conscious of the damp sweat sticking his hair to his forehead and the flush of arousal clinging to the line of his cheekbones. Over him Shizuo is breathing hard, panting for air against the tangle of Izaya’s hair; but his own tremors of pleasure have eased too, at least enough to grant him the stability to brace his weight up over Izaya’s body instead of collapsing atop him.

“God,” Shizuo breathes, his voice low and broken-open on the same heat running thick in all Izaya’s veins. “Izaya.” He ducks his head down, his forehead pressing close against Izaya’s; his breathing spills at the corner of the other’s parted lips. “You are _so_ beautiful.”

Izaya has to fight for air enough to speak, and then has to work through the whole logic of language before he can find words enough to give a reply. “Shizu-chan.” He means to say something snarky, to throw back teasing as response to the other’s sincerity; but mockery dies against the friction of the collar at his throat, amusement gives way to emotion, and when he finally fits words past his lips they’re as truthful as the flush across his skin makes his reactions. “I love you.”

Shizuo huffs against the corner of his mouth, his lips curving up onto a grin Izaya can feel against his skin. “I love you too,” he says, and presses his mouth to the edge of Izaya’s for a moment of warmth that Izaya lets soak into him instead of turning his head to reciprocate. It’s enough to lie still, to let his whole body go slack and languid under Shizuo’s as Shizuo kisses his cheek, his jaw, the soft skin under his ear, working his way back and down to the dark of the collar hugging close to Izaya’s throat.

“I love you so much,” Shizuo murmurs, the words coming quiet against the flutter of Izaya’s pulse, and Izaya shuts his eyes, and lets his mouth curve onto a smile as Shizuo’s lips press a seal just over the buckle at the back of his neck.

It’s easy to let himself relax when he has such strong bonds to hold him.


End file.
